illuminate
by frozenmango
Summary: In which Ryuko has trouble sleeping, and Nemuri eases her pain.


**an: takes place in my still work-in-progress bnha fantasy au**

 **also, it's nsfw**

 **enjoy**

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There are nights when Ryuko finds it hard to sleep.

When these nights happen, it's because the memories are too much to bear. She closes her eyes and she experiences… _everything._ The dented armor, the pools of blood, broken weapons sticking up from the ground and from bodies, the smell of burning flesh and wood permeating the air—it's as if she's standing in the middle of the battlefield again, watching everything unfold in front of her once more. She hears the cries of children, the murders of innocents, the slaughtering of her village. She trembles in place, unable to react.

The elders of her village always told her she had the fury and courage of the dragon burning inside of her, fueling her heart and soul.

That day, however, she felt like a cold coward.

And when she remembers how she felt that day, Ryuko feels the dread and fear pooling inside of her gut, creeping up her throat like bile, scratching at it raw. The regret comes after, swelling inside of her skull until she can't handle it anymore, and she clutches at her head like a child, tears spilling from her eyes like clear blood. Her body is scorchingly cold, unbearably so, and it feels like the faint scars scattered on her body are reopening, pain searing through her like a brand.

She was the promise of that tiny Dragonborn village.

Yet, she couldn't even stop its destruction.

Ryuko tries to force air into her lungs, chest heaving as she takes shaky breaths, but every attempt is so, _so_ futile—it doesn't seem like enough. _She_ doesn't seem like enough. Everything is so cold, cold, so dreadfully cold….

Until, inevitably, she feels warmth tickling the outside of her arm. It touches her shoulder, melting the numb cold, before making its way up to gently pry her hands from her face. This warmth gently rubs the back of her hands, before cupping her face with the delicacy of a feather. Ryuko leans into it, soothed by the touch, and as she turns her head, her chapped lips brush against soft skin. Her hand comes to grasp at the warmth, twining her fingers with it. The warmth reciprocates the gesture, gently holding back, before coaxing her to turn on her side. Ryuko follows the motion, and with heavy eyes, sees the faint outline of Nemuri being illuminated by the moonlight.

There are nights when Ryuko finds it hard to sleep.

When these nights happen, Nemuri is always there to comfort her.

Nemuri's thumb rubs Ryuko's cheek in a gentle back and forth motion, wiping away the stray tear. Ryuko places the softest of kisses on Nemuri's palm, before slowly coming in to close the distance. Nemuri meets her halfway, and though her lips are slightly chapped, they're still oh so soft, and oh so sweet. The memories keeping Ryuko awake now dissipate like mist, but she knows they're not gone forever. They're always there, forever lurking, in the back of her mind, haunting her like ghosts.

The thought makes her wince, and she whimpers.

"Shh," Nemuri coos, placing a soft kiss on her nose, "I'm here."

Ryuko leans up and their lips meet again, and this time, they linger. Their movements are languid, like the slow lapping of the sea against its shore. Nemuri scoots closer, bringing her scent with her, one that reminds Ryuko of jasmine flowers and rich perfume. It ignites something deep in Ryuko's gut, like kindling being thrown into a flame.

A part of Ryuko can't help but laugh. Most nights with Nemuri are far from gentle; energy seems to crackle in the air once she climbs on top of Ryuko, and the night becomes a blur as they devour one another, making love in the roughest way possible, just the way Nemuri (and Ryuko, but she never has the guts to admit it) loves it.

But these rare nights, the ones where Nemuri kisses away the pain instead of playfully inflicting it, are the ones Ryuko cherishes the most.

And the first time Ryuko saw Nemuri like this was the time she fell for her.

"It's the nightmares," Nemuri says under her breath. It's more of a statement than a question, but Ryuko still nods her head gently all the same.

"I should be over it already," Ryuko responds in the same volume. "It's been…years. They should be gone."

Nemuri exhales softly through her nose. "You know something like this doesn't go away. Not in the way you want it to."

Ryuko closes her eyes. "…I know."

Nemuri replies by softly kissing her lips.

"It's a little pathetic," Ryuko says with a bitter chuckle, "to have something like this. Dragons are supposed to be strong. They're supposed to be brave and look fear in the eyes—not cower in front of it. Who am I to have the blood of such a proud creature running through my veins? I'm anything but a dragon."

"Don't say that," Nemuri says. "You're strong. You have the strength of the dragons running through your veins. You've made it through years, and fought through battles, both literal and metaphorical. This could have inhibited you, but you didn't give it the chance to. And though these memories try, they can never define you, my strong, beautiful dragon."

Ryuko's eyes widen slowly once Nemuri finishes. Her heart races, and the small flicker of flame living in her suddenly engulfs her senses. It lights something inside, something strong, something resilient, something passionate. Pride soars in her chest, and for a moment, Ryuko feels like she's going to take flight.

If Ryuko wasn't already in love, she knows she would have taken the fall right now.

Ryuko cups Nemuri's face in her hands, and with a tilt forward, connects their lips. Passion lights their actions, and it's only a matter of time until Ryuko rolls onto her back, taking Nemuri with her.

The Dragonborn feels a hand slip underneath her loose shirt, running over her toned stomach, reaching to cup a breast. She groans into Nemuri's mouth, losing herself in the sensation. Pleasure courses through her, stoking the growing fire inside.

What happens next feels like a blur to Ryuko. Clothes are shed and thrown aside, and soft cries and moans fill the room. Harmless purple and red bruises appear on their necks next to crescent-shaped marks on their shoulders. Ryuko breaths out in pleasure when she feels Nemuri's teeth graze against her earlobe, and she _swears_ she's getting drunk off of that sweet, _sweet_ scent of jasmine. Ghostly fingers trace her figure, but not the same way the ghosts of her memories do; these are filled with warmth and wanting, leaving a trail of desire that makes the flame inside of Ryuko flare.

Ryuko lifts her head and meets Nemuri's lips once more. They kiss with languid fervor, tongues teasing lips, and teeth grazing tongues. One of Ryuko's wandering hands slips under, cupping part of Nemuri's chest, playing with the tip. She can feel Nemuri's silent moans buffet her lips as they share ragged breaths in between kisses, and once Ryuko slides her hand lower, Nemuri's cries grow audible.

The moment Ryuko's fingertips stroke Nemuri in between her legs, the black-haired woman melts.

Every touch elicits a gasp, every stroke gives a soft moan, and once Ryuko slips her fingers into Nemuri's warmth, a stifled cry is her response.

The pace Ryuko sets is slow, almost gentle, as her fingers move in and out of Nemuri. She knows the black-haired woman prefers the contrary; harsh, almost brutal, movements as Ryuko's palm slams into her, filling the room with the sound of moans and skin slapping against skin.

But Ryuko wants to take in every moment. She wants to burn this experience into her mind, taking in the way Nemuri's wetness covers her fingers, the way Nemuri's hips roll back to meet her hand, the way stray strands of wild, black hair tickle her nose as Nemuri buries her face into the sheets. And once Nemuri's legs start to quiver, Ryuko relishes the way her fingers are being squeezed as Nemuri cries out in pleasure, mixing Ryuko's name with expletives as her body trembles with pleasure.

Once Nemuri catches her breath, she sits up, straddling Ryuko's hips. The Dragonborn stares at her with awe and lust, committing every detail to memory. She loves the way the silver moonlight illuminates Nemuri's wild, black hair. Nemuri looks like a statue brought to life, from her immaculate skin, to her curves, to her beautiful visage. With her clean hand, Ryuko places it on Nemuri's hips and, oh so slowly, trails it upwards, following the dip of her waist and the rise of her chest, before ending at her face. Ryuko cups her cheek, her thumb resting on soft lips. She feels them curl into a smile, and without hesitation, Nemuri takes her thumb into her mouth.

Ryuko shivers as she feels a tongue swirl around her finger, teasingly prodding and stroking, until Nemuri breaks away with a soft _pop._ She gives a low chuckle, placing the softest of kisses in the middle of Ryuko's palm. Nemuri reaches for Ryuko's other hand, and wraps her tongue around her soiled fingers. The Dragonborn feels desire raging in her gut as Nemuri makes a display of cleaning her fingers; she sucks gently, nipping at the tips, trails of saliva connecting her lips with Ryuko's fingers as she pulls back.

Ryuko exhales shakily—she didn't even know she was holding her breath.

Nemuri gives her a knowing smirk, giving the softest of pecks in the middle of her palm. Licking her lips, Nemuri slides down, pushing Ryuko's legs open as she does so. Ryuko sucks in a breath and holds it, anticipation boiling in her stomach. She remembers the countless nights Nemuri has done this to her, when she would wind up gripping the sheets with white knuckles, curling her toes, as shocks of plea—

Ryuko releases the moan trapped in her throat when she feels a tongue lick up and down her folds. She grits her teeth when she feels lips wrap around her clit. She feels teeth graze against it, and her hips buckle. The sensation makes Ryuko dizzy with pleasure. A hand flies down to grip at Nemuri's hair, bundling it up into a tight fist. Nemuri groans into her, and Ryuko replies with a moan as the vibrations course through her body like electricity. She feels like her body is in an inferno, her skin hot and feverish as she pants heavily. Through half-lidded eyes, she sees Nemuri staring at her, her cyan eyes clouded with lust as she sucks gently on her clit.

 _Fuck._

Something slips inside of Ryuko. She barely feels it at first, but soon she feels full as Nemuri slides three fingers inside of her, slowly pumping her hand back and forth. Ryuko cries grow louder and louder, _especially_ when she feels Nemuri's fingers curl to hit that _one_ spot that makes Ryuko see stars. Her back arches off the bed, Nemuri's name slipping past her lips.

 _Fuck._

At this point, Ryuko can't focus on anything else _except_ Nemuri. Memories, stress, anxiety—all those melt away once Nemuri begins to pleasure her. Ryuko's mind is occupied with the way Nemuri touches her, kisses her, pleases her. Everything is centered around her, the woman who holds a dragon's heart in the middle of her palm and cherishes it as if it were the universe itself.

How Ryuko became blessed with a treasure like Nemuri is beyond her.

" _Fuck,_ I'm going to—!" Ryuko's words get caught in her throat as her mouth forms a silent scream. Her toes curl as her hips buckle, pushing herself harder against Nemuri's tongue. Her body trembles, her grip tightens, her legs squeeze together, and the words trapped in her throat are released in a long, low moan. In the midst of the pleasure, Ryuko feels Nemuri coaxing her to gently ride the wave, her fingers languidly curling as soft lips place even softer kisses on her clit.

It takes a moment for Ryuko to relax. Her harsh, ragged breathing slows into a normal pace, and once it does, Nemuri shuffles back up to lie next to her. The Dragonborn covers her eyes with her arm; she can't bear to see the satisfied smile playing on the black-haired woman's lips.

Eventually, Ryuko's rapid pulse steadies. With fatigue beginning to weigh heavily on her, she lowers her arm and turns on her side. Nemuri is facing her, but with her slow breathing and closed eyes, Ryuko knows she's asleep.

She chuckles to herself; Nemuri always was and always will be a heavy sleeper.

Ryuko closes her eyes. This time, instead of seeing those horrifying images, she sees Nemuri's figure, outlined in that silver moonlight, as if she is an angel flung out of space.

The thought is enough to lull Ryuko into an easy sleep.

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 **an: hey what's up hope you liked my rarepair. i love these two so much that, obviously, i had to pair them together. i mentioned previously in my other bnha fic (momojirou, fantasy au) that i might be working on a fantasy au for bnha, and guess what! i am! everything as of right now is loosely following the plot of the original series, but i'm sure there will be a part where it'll deviate off into its own work (i'm a pantser writer, meaning i write whatever comes to mind and prays it all slots together in the end LOL). i've written several chapters already, so i'll be definitely uploading them real soon, real quick.**

 **but until then, i really hope you enjoyed this story. it's been a while since i wrote something like this, so hopefully it was up to par.**

 **thanks for reading.**


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